


Gold to Dust

by Tahoe_Tess_Tudnas



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Crossover, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahoe_Tess_Tudnas/pseuds/Tahoe_Tess_Tudnas
Summary: In a world of humans and daemons, some stand out more than others. Could the Winchesters be any different?





	Gold to Dust

 

> **

“Hey, Dean,” Sam started cautiously, petting Ives _ **[1]**_ on his lap. They were young and nervous but they wanted to _know_. Dad wasn’t there (again), wouldn’t be back for two days, and his big brother always, _always_ answered his questions.

“What’s up, squirt?” Dean didn’t look up from where he and Drew huddled around the comics on the floor.

Sam bit his lip, still hesitating before Ives just blurted out. “What type of daemon did Mom have? What was his name?”

Dean and Drew’s heads whipped up, amber eyes zeroing in on them with startled intensity. Ives shifted into a squirrel, hiding in Sam’s hair but Sam didn’t look away, couldn’t when he had put such a look on their faces.

Drew huffed for a moment, nudging Dean’s arm for comfort, while he swallowed, looking away. “Why . . . why do you want to know?”

Sam shrugged, looking down at his feet. 

He sniffled once, Ives curling into the crook of his neck, before he answered. “It’s just . . . no one’s ever told us. No one’s ever talked about it. Not you or Drew, or Dad or Ellie. And they were doing this family tree thing at school and everyone could say what their parents’ daemons are and what they want their daemons to be and we couldn’t _answer_ . . .”

He felt Dean’s hands on his shoulders, relaxed into the sudden hug with tears pinpricking his eyes. It had hurt, it had hurt a lot when the teacher had asked about his mother’s daemon, and he just didn’t _know_. He felt like he _failed_ somehow because he didn’t know and he couldn’t stand the sad looks from the teachers or students or anybody.

Drew pressed her large body against his thigh for comfort while Ives shifted into a small bird and nestled on top of Drew’s back, both daemons watching their humans.

Sam’s big brother sighed, strengthening the hug once before letting go, ruffling the younger Winchester’s hair. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay. You got a right to know.” Sam peered up at him through his bangs, watched as Dean looked away out the window for a moment before he glanced down at Drew, quirking an eyebrow.

Drew nodded and shifted instantly, her large body folding into something a bit smaller than the previously large form. Sam didn’t recognize the animal at first, squinting his eyes at the short, stubby legs and the white-brown coarse fur.

“His name was Julian _ **[2]**_,” Drew’s rough voice answered the unasked question, and Sam and Ives snapped to her fierce (sorrow-filled) gaze. Dean stood behind her, hazel-green eyes riveted on Drew’s new form like he’s drinking it in. “He was a Jack Russell terrier.”

Sam tilted his head curiously, settling on the ground to stare at Drew’s imitation of his mother’s daemon.

“Really?” Ives asked in breathless wonder. She shifted like she’s trying to imitate Drew but only managed a brown Labrador puppy. “That’s so cool! All the other mom’s daemons looked like they were birds or cats or something.”

Drew bowed her head, embarrassed. “Yeah, Julian was the coolest. He would lick my face every day and nuzzle me just like this,” and she pressed her cold, wet nose on Ives’s stomach, startling a laugh out of Sam’s daemon.

Sam couldn’t keep the excited grin on his face. “What else did he do?”

Drew grinned down at him, fierce and proud. “Well, I once saw him take on a Rottweiler daemon.”

Both Ives’ and Sam’s eyes widened. “No way!”

“Oh yeah,” Dean interrupted gruffly, and Sam glanced at his big brother, who sits down next to him. Dean’s eyes were dark and sad, but he still smiled when he bumped shoulders with Sam. “It was bullying a young girl’s daemon at the supermarket and it was huge, Sammy. Like, almost as tall as you are.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief, and Ives settled her puppy form on the ground, ears tilted up, both riveted by the story.

Drew continued, mimicking the fight, looking fierce with her teeth. “And then here comes Julian, growling, and Mom’s getting in the guy’s face, and the Rottweiler doesn’t even see him coming before Julian’s running circles around him, biting the big guy’s ankles and never once getting caught. The dude and his Rottweiler were so harassed that they ended up just bailing. It was awesome.”

“That’s so cool,” Ives yipped, shifting once more and finally getting the terrier form right, if still a puppy. She wagged her tail, yapping excitedly at Drew who barked once back.

Sam looked over to Dean, who watched the two Jack Russell terriers with something like pain and nostalgia. He caught his big brother’s gaze and smiled shyly.

“Thanks for telling me, Dean.”

**

“Aren’t your boys a little young to be in a hunter’s bar?” Randy asked casually, his daemon tense and quiet at his side.

John ignored him, eyes riveted on his journal, trying to write down all he learned from the hunt with the wendigo. Eligius _ **[3]**_ remained a calm, steady presence on his shoulder, her talons digging slightly as she read and critiqued his work.

“No,” he finally replied gruffly. “Dean’s got quite a few kills under his belt while Sam’s getting there.”

Randy hummed, clearly not convinced. “And your eldest is what? Fifteen?”

Now, John looked up, gaze narrowed at the scruffy hunter, whose own eyes had strayed to the poker table. “Yeah,” he answered slowly, disliking the interest this man had in his sons.

The Winchester patriarch followed Randy’s line of sight, finally catching a glimpse of Dean, a charming rakish grin in place as he shuffled more cards, seated against five or six other hunters.

“John, he’s picked the wrong place to hustle,” Eligius whispered in his ear, feathers ruffling in concern, and John nodded slightly, scowling at the dangerous company before turning back to his journal.

“It’ll be a good lesson for him. Teach him not to make mistakes like that.”

Eligius nearly hissed. “And if they decide to take him out back?”

John eyed the other men – the usual hunter types, all hard and dangerous and rough-edged – before shrugging, carefully ignoring the pit of patriarchal guilt welling up once more. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

A thought occurred and he did another glance around the smoky room. _Where’s Sam then?_

There. Little Sam sat over in a corner booth of the bar, Ives in the form of a sparrow this time perched easily on his shoulder, both reading a novel for school and taking notes. By his posture, John could tell his youngest was tense and uncomfortable - he had complained loudly of coming into the bar, preferring instead to stay in the Impala – but John never liked having his boys out of his sight in places like this, particularly around hunters.

Sighing, he downed another shot of whiskey then went back to jotting down some notes in his journal. Only a few moments later, Eligius nipped his ear for his attention and John glanced up sharply, noting how both Randy and his boar had tensed as well, their gazes now fixed at where Sam and Ives sat.

Three teenagers – probably locals’ kids - had edged up to Sam, surrounding him on all sides. They were older than Dean, less experienced given their slouched stances and drunken expressions, yet their grins spoke of taunting and arrogance. Predators looking at prey. Bullies.

Eligius hissed slightly in anger while John’s scowl deepened, wanting more than anything to intervene on any threat to his boys. Sam had obviously noticed the danger, carefully putting his book and notes away.

Or he was before one of the interlopers snagged the book from his hand.

John was just close enough to catch the conversation.

“What’s this then? Some little kid thinking he’s smarter than the rest of us?” the largest one – obviously the ringleader – sneered, his own daemon hissing at Ives, who easily shifted into bigger bird before glaring down.

Unintimidated, Sam just rolled his eyes – a trait that had John gritting his teeth most days – while Ives ruffled her own feathers in threat. “Look, I’m not here to make trouble. I just want my book.”

The ringleader grinned, glancing at his friends. “Oh, did you hear that, boys? The little baby just wants his book.”

John watched Sam’s mouth tighten into a thin line, face flushing with anger. With pride, he noticed how Sam’s eyes roved the three opponents once, knew his youngest catalogued their stances, weapons, the chances of a fight, and escape route if needed. Ives on his shoulder casually mimicked the movement, glancing at the other daemons in sequence.

Eligius and John had taught the boys to move as one with their daemons, to fight using other people’s weaknesses to their advantage. Still, three teenagers against one scrawny 11-year-old were bad odds, definitely not something the father wanted to encourage, particularly in this rowdy crowd.

“John,” Randy hissed, his daemon already standing up, snorting dangerously. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

John growled his agreement, Eligius flexing her wings and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. The ringleader grabbed Sam’s collar, obviously moving to punch his kid, and John stood roughly, chair scraping along the sawdust floor.

Then, he heard it. Hell, _everyone_ heard it.

A deep guttural snarl, a _roar_ (it was the only way John could think to describe it) cut through the bar’s noise, instantly silencing every patron within seconds. The thunderous sound – familiar like a distant and aching _human_ memory, closely tangled with fear and dread – made every hair stand on end, every nerve tense in the need for fight or flight. It rang primal, natural, _wild_ filled with _anger_ and _danger_ and _threat_ to the point that some of the hunters, always twitchy, had reached for their weapons, crazed gazes casting around for the source.

“John, over there,” Eligius whispers in the stillness, clacking her beak only once.

Standing up as he was, John noticed then, watched as a monstrous dark shape emerged from the shadows under Sam’s chair, and he couldn’t hold back the slight shudder of surprise.

Drausinus [4], Dean’s daemon, marched forward now, her fierce gaze fixed – not on the ringleader’s daemon, which would have posed the largest threat - but rather on the ringleader himself.

With her hackles raised, fangs bared in threat, and claws easily carving into the wooden floor, John couldn’t even recognize her, couldn’t even conjoin this _predator_ and _Drew_ , as Dean and Sam called her. _Drew,_ who teased Ives with a lolling grin, who happily approached most other daemons with a wagging tail.

The sight of the massive daemon appearing seemingly out of nowhere, shoulders bunched and ready to attack, forced the ringleader away, his face pale and obviously shocked, dropping Sam instantly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Drausinus rumbled, her gaze flickering over the other two kids before glaring once more at the ringleader. “You might be idiots but even you should know better than to pick a fight with us.”

“Fuck, you’re Winchester’s daemon,” one of them said, backing away slightly, his own daemon already hiding in the man’s hair.

“Damn straight,” Drausinus snorted, hackles still raised and paws planted firmly, between the threat and Sam. “Now, why don’t you and your little buddies run off,” her lip curled into a sneer, a single fang showing, eyes promising threat, and John’s heart stuttered with fear again, “before I show you how I really _hunt_.”

She eyed the daemons hungrily and within moments, the three knuckleheads vanished from the bar, leaving silence in their wake.

All hunters’ eyes – John’s included – remained fixed on Drausinus, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Drausinus appeared uninterested, her own gaze simply on Sam and Ives. She muttered something to them, too low for John to hear, paused to nuzzle Ives once, before disappearing once more to lie beneath the table.

Sam slumped back onto his chair in relief, Ives nearly curled up in that long hair of his, then hid himself behind his book, the one that had been hastily dropped in the confusion.

John blinked, filled with surprise yet with his heart thudding in his chest. _What the fuck was that?_

A shuffle of cards finally broke the silence, and John, along with the rest, turned to catch Dean’s simply shit-eating grin. “Shall we continue?”

The hunters at the poker table appraised John’s eldest son seriously now, glancing between where Drausinus had disappeared then back to her human.

One shrugged, grin slowly spreading before throwing them down. “I fold.”

Dean looked disappointed but unsurprised as the rest murmured similar sentiments.

“John,” Randy’s nervous voice broke through John’s frantic thoughts.

“What?” he grumbled roughly, Eligius settling calmly now on his shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, John watched as Randy patted his boar daemon in reassurance, his own Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What kind of daemon did you say Dean had?” the other hunter asked cautiously, glancing between the shadows under the table and Dean once more.

The question held an odd note to it, and John frowned, unable to place the sudden trickle of unease down his spine.

“I didn’t. We’re not sure what kind yet,” he admitted grudgingly. “She only Settled a couple months ago. Think she’s some sort of mutt.”

A _big_ mutt, granted.

Randy’s own daemon snorted, now looking at John and Eligius directly, while the other hunter continued. “Oh, she’s a mutt, alright. You should probably figure out what kind she is soon, though. Because . . .”

Randy glanced over nervously to where Sam and Ives and Drausinus were. What the fuck was going on? John’d never seen the old man nervous in his life.

Randy finally shook himself, took another shot of whiskey with shaking hands, then looked at John dead serious, finishing his the train of thought. “Because, John, that was no _dog_ growl I’d ever heard.”

Eligius on his shoulder stilled completely, the way she did when sensing a hunt. _Or a predator,_ John’s mind traitorously allowed, and he glanced once more at where Drausinus lay. If he squinted, he could just about catch that fierce amber glaze glowing back.  

Pieces over the last couple months added slowly together in John’s mind, like an unpleasant puzzle, and he watched as Dean stood and ambled over from the poker table, heading to Sam like a beacon. His body lithe and amble, unlike any other gangly teenager’s, stance as good as any soldier’s, that same shit-eating grin on his face once more as he showed Sam his winnings.

“Well, fuck,” John sighed, and he threw back a shot.

This was going to complicate things.

**

“Mr. Winchester, if you could stay behind a moment, please.”

Sam glanced at Ives in confusion, who simply shrugged her wings back. He sighed in defeat, hefting his bag over one shoulder before marching to Ms. Locklear’s desk.

He’d only been in this high school for a week so far and Ms. Locklear with her cool barn owl daemon, _Winnie_ as the students called her, proved to be his favorite teacher, even if it was Biology class.

Ms. Locklear motioned for him to take a seat and Sam did, Ives hopping on the back of the chair as a perch. He shifted under the scrutiny of Winnie’s intense gaze but made his own eyes meet the teacher’s directly.

She smiled warmly at him, and his shoulders relaxed an inch. So, he wasn’t in trouble or something.

“Can I help you, Ms. Locklear?” Sam finally asked.

“Oh, no, Sam. I just wanted to ask how you’re fitting in here, and if you need any help.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not my first high school. It’s been pretty okay, so far.”

 _Aside from the stares and the classic new kid questions and the fact that I’m behind in every class_ , he thought a tad resentfully, ignoring Ives’ commiserating nip to his ear.

“Yes, I see that,” Ms. Locklear answered wryly, and he smiled tentatively at her. She shuffled a few papers in front of her and finally drew out one to show him. 

Sam winced, recognizing his own hand-writing from their latest assignment. He could see where this is going.

“I also wanted to talk to you about your paper on your family and their daemons.”

Sam nodded, floppy bangs flying forward to his irritation. Dad was always complaining about getting his haircut, but Dean loved ruffling his hair so fat chance of that happening.

Ms. Locklear hummed a little, glancing at the paper. “You wrote rather well, and far above your age level. And the way you described your father’s and your mother’s daemons were perfect descriptions of their traits and personalities, following the actual scientific nomenclature for the two species.”

Sam and Ives at his shoulder nodded along. They could sense a _but_ in this conversation a mile away, and given the way Winnie suddenly stilled, her gaze intensifying, they were right.  

“But,” Ah, there it was, “what about your brother’s daemon?”

Sam resisted the urge to wince. Drew was a . . . difficult topic, often leading to unwanted scrutiny, forced trips to the counselor, and possibly ending with them leaving town, the CPS hot on their trail.

He looked his teacher in the eye. “I described her in there, ma’am.”

“Well, yes. A _Canis Lupus Familiarus._ But I can’t really tell from your description exactly what _kind_ of dog she is.”

His teacher’s owl daemon was watching them closely, eyes narrowed and Ives simply stared back, unruffled even as Sam just stated with a wry smirk. “She’s a mutt, actually. We have no idea what breed she is.”

Mr. Locklear blinked, obviously taken aback. “And you and your family aren’t interested in finding out? You know there’s a DNA clinic not too far from here that studies daemons as well. I’m sure there’s a chance that we could -”

Sam cut her off there, having heard the same line many times. “My brother’s not interested, ma’am. Says he loves the mystery of her. Likes to make people guess.”

“I suppose your brother and his daemon love the attention as well,” his teacher asked dryly, raising a single eyebrow even as her daemon turned away to stare at the chalkboard.

Sam just grinned. It was so weird how people reacted to Drew. It was _Drew_ for god’s sake. Sweet, loving, playful _Drew_. Sure, she was big, but deep down, she might as well be a teddy bear. “It’s like you already know them, Ms. Locklear.”

She gave him a grin in answer, eyes twinkling. “Very well, then. In that case, keep up the good work. I look forward to meeting your family one day.”

Sam turned away to hide a wince even as Ives chittered in amusement. With any luck, that’d never happen.

**

“Ivie! Sammy!”

The growled, panicked shout shouldn’t have surprised the two of them, but it did, even as Sam and Ives dodged the attacking _bunyip_ , and Sam wanted to sob with relief. “Drew! Over here!”

Ives shrieked, flying at the _bunyip_ with her claws and scratching it in the eyes. It screeched in pain then leapt up at her, its own fangs extended, and for a moment, Sam couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even move, because it was going to _kill_ his daemon.

Later, he’d remember that there was no warning, no sound, no sight, save for a rustle from the brush before the _bunyip_ was thrown down under a large dark body. Blood flew and fangs tore through muscle and claw as Sam watched, clutching a shaking Ives to his chest.  The _bunyip_ struggled to get away, but strong jaws held it in place, unrelenting as steel.

“Drew, move! Now!” Dean’s voice roared.

Muzzle bloodied and hackles raised, Drew leapt back, standing between Sam, Ives, and the _bunyip._ A single shot fired and the _bunyip_ jerked once before falling limp.

For a moment, Sam’s ears rang, heart beating loud in his chest. Ives’s still shaking in his arms and his body trembled with exertion.

There was another rustle then Dean stalked forward from the shadows, face dark and firing another shot into the _bunyip’_ s body just as Drew turned to them immediately, her face almost twisted into a snarl.

“What the fuck were you thinking running off like that?! Why the hell aren’t you in the car?”

Sam leaned back, eyes wide on Drew’s bloodied fangs, her piercing amber gaze, just as Ives spoke up. “We . . . we didn’t mean to. We got separated and then it was just there.”

Drew planted her paws firmly in front of them now, growling in their faces. “And you thought, what? You’d take it on yourselves? You were supposed to stay in the car, Sam!”

Her voice was a deep growl by the end of it, clearly distressed, and Ives hopped onto Sam’s leg to look her in the eye. “I was doing just fine. We didn’t need your help.”

Drew shook once then leaned forward, teeth gleaming and eyes unyielding. “You were about to be monster chow, pup, and that’s _never_ happening again.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean piped up, voice carefully controlled as he walked over to his little brother, helping him stand. Sam could feel the tremor in Dean’s arm, the unmasked concern in the green eyes, the barely masked terror as they look him over for injuries. “You okay, Sammy? Did it get you anywhere?”

Sam shook his head furiously. “No, I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean hummed a little, clearly not believing, clamping his shoulder tightly, before glancing at the raven. “What about you, Ivie? You fine?”

She bobbed her head, flexing her feathers as though in show. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah, but you almost weren’t. If I hadn’t been there . . ,” Drew tapered off, staring back at the dead _bunyip_.

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” Ives clacked her beak. “I’ve been training with Ellie, you know. We’re not children anymore.”

“Because a bird’s not meant to fight,” Drew immediately snapped back, almost snarling. Sam and Ives leaned away, startled at the sudden viciousness while Dean merely stared, allowing his daemon free reign. “You’re a fucking raven, Ives, which means you’re meant to scout and be up high and far, far away from any monsters or other shit. What the fuck were you thinking?”  

They quailed under her gaze, remaining silent instead, and she snorted once, turning then and standing guard over the dead bunyip.

Dean was looking away from them as well, into the forest, back on the trail, ever on alert. “Come on,” he stated gruffly, absently grabbing Sam’s arm. “Let’s get you back to the car before Dad comes.”

A familiar screech rang out closely overhead, and the four winced, pausing in their movements, just as John shouted, “Dean!” before bursting into the clearing like a storm, rifle in hand and that hunter’s glare in his eye.

Eligius circled above while John’s eyes swept over the scene, taking in Dean’s hand on the trigger, his position slightly in front of Sam, Ives on his shoulder, and Drew’s bloodied muzzle. Then, he saw the dead _bunyip_ in the background and his face darkened with wrath, barely taking his finger off the trigger before marching over.

Dean very carefully didn’t tense, didn’t move from his position in front of Sam as he faced his father’s rage.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You broke formation. You disobeyed a direct order,” Dad nearly spat, voice full of the disappointment and anger that Dean had spent years avoiding. At his side, Drew simply stood at attention, although Eligius had landed on her back, claws digging relentlessly into her fur, drawing blood.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, Sam knew, an act to keep Drew in control, to keep her collared.

“Even worse, you could have gotten Sammy killed, Dean.” It was a painful echo to Drew’s admonishment earlier before.

Sam tried to interrupt, peeking around Dean’s back. “Dad, it’s not his fault. I got lost and . . .”

John’s glare shut him up instantly, causing Sam’s argument to stutter in his chest, to hide behind Dean.

“Well, Dean, what’s your excuse?”

Dean licked his lips, feeling the ghost of Eligius’ claws at his neck. “No excuse, sir. Drew heard Sam and Ives in trouble.”

“I was the one who ran off, sir,” Drew stated clearly, amber eyes catching John’s directly before lowering to the ground. “I was the one who broke formation. I was worried about them.”

“Yeah, and while you two ran off half-cocked, Eligius and I had to deal with the other motherfucker by ourselves.” Dean looked at the ground even as John growled, “How am I supposed to trust you, Dean, if you run off on your own during a hunt? When you _deliberately_ break formation? You’re supposed to be better than this. You’re supposed to be smarter than this.” He glanced at Drew, scowling. “Both of you.”

Dean and Drew simply stared, their only reaction a slight slump in the shoulders from what Sam could tell.

John paused, then ran a hand through his hair, breathing out all his fear and worry when Dean and Drew had first taken off. “Come on, then. I’ll take Sam home. Dean, Drew, you two burn the bodies then head back.”

To their credit, Dean and Drew barely blinked even as Sam surged forward outrage on his face, Ives’s feathers ruffling in anger. “Dad, you can’t just leave them here. It’s like eight miles through the woods to the motel and it’s already getting dark out.”

Eligius had already moved from Drew’s back and onto John’s shoulder, dismissing her eldest daemon-daughter, while John appeared unmoved, crossing his arms. “They should have thought of that before disobeyed me. Now, get your ass in the car. I still have to talk to _you_ about leaving the car.”

“No,” Sam shouted, planting his feet. “Let me help Dean. It’s my fault. I ran off and shouldn’t have-“

“Sam,” Dean hissed quietly, while Drew simply watched him, at Ives in turn, amber eyes imploring. “Get in the damn car before you make it worse.” His eyes softened slightly, though they did nothing to hide the guilt and self-recrimination. “We’ll be fine, brat.”

Sam glanced between them, between his father’s cold, immovable eyes and Dean’s warm, worried ones and nodded, shuffling his feet forward, ignoring the deepening pit in his stomach as he moved further and further away from Dean and Drew.

“We shouldn’t leave them there,” Ives whispered in his ear, already shuffling her claws in discomfort.

“I know,” Sam whispered back as they clambered into the front seat of the car.

The Impala rumbled, Eligius on her perch behind Dad, and Sam looked back once more, watched with the foreboding feeling as Dean and Drew’s silhouettes faded from view.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Ives whispered in his ear, and, feeling like a traitor, he couldn’t help but agree.

**

Stanford felt like a dream most days. The first two years passed in a blur, filled with new experiences, new friends, a _normal_ life, a _freedom_ just like Sam and Ives had always craved. It was strange at first, the stability of it. They had half-expected it to be a lie, an illusion, for Dad or Dean to come at any moment and take them away, back to the harsh reality of the hunting life.

But it wasn’t and with each day, Sam and Ives strenuously carved a life for themselves, studied hard with the goal of law school in mind, forced themselves out of the old habits of looking over their shoulders, or keeping to themselves or expecting Dean and Drew to be by their side, to help push through awkward conversations or make fools of themselves just to make Sam and Ives laugh on the tough days.

It was the one feeling that never went away, missing Dean and Drew. It barely faded when he heard their voices on the other line of the phone, each call more strained than the last, until finally, he ignored them, ignored the voicemails, and Ives calling him an idiot, and eventually, the calls stopped altogether.

So, Sam and Ives buried themselves in the grind of college life, and they succeeded for the most part, joining club activities, working for the school library and the cafeteria, helping out TA’s and the professors with research.

And then, they met Jess and Celeste.

Sam had never really believed in true love before, thought it was a myth, like the Epic Love between Dad and Mom, John and Mary, the one that drove their family to hunt the things of the dark.

Looking at Jess though, her golden hair curled along his pillow most nights, trailing over her shoulder during the day, those blue eyes, always curious or interested or sparkling with good humor and love. Looking at Celeste with her pure white fur and happy barks and wagging tail, her affection for Ives in every single glance, every joyful nuzzle of feathers.

God, they loved them, they loved this life, and finally, _finally_ , it felt like everything was going to be okay.

“Are you ready for this, baby?” Jess asked, her warm hand engulfed in his large one and he smiled down at her, felt Ives on his shoulder doing the same, feathers ruffled in excitement. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

They walked into the bar, Ives on Sam’s shoulder and Celeste at Jess’ side, only to stop as a cacophony of noise assaulted them.

“Surprise!”

Sam grinned despite himself, glancing at the few friends he had accumulated over the years.

Ives flew up and over to the table already, to where the other daemons were, claws and paws, and feathers and scales all greeting each other warmly. Sam gave his friends hugs, lifting up a few of the smaller ones with a laugh.

“Thanks for coming, guys!”

“Are you kidding?” Brad asked incredulously, an overflowing beer in his hand which he was already foisting onto Sam. “It’s not every day a guy turns 21. Of course, we’d be here.”

Sam took the beer good naturedly, glancing around the bar. It was busy already, students and workers alike gearing up for the weekend. A wave of nostalgia hit him suddenly, mind flashing to all of the bars he’d gone to with Dean and Drew, where he’d watch them hit on waitresses or hustle pool or start a fight just for fun, Dean’s green eyes flashing with good humor, Drew’s tongue lolling out in a doggy smile.

“Plus, when would we ever turn away the opportunity for a night out?” Karen asked, nudging Jess excitedly.

Sam smirked, the memories already fading. “Well, I’m happy to provide the occasion for everyone.” He opened his other arm slightly, and Jess melted right in, fitting to his side like a glove and smiling like he was the sun.

On the ground, Sam felt Celeste twining around their legs, while Ives quickly hopped over, giving Sam’s ear an affectionate nip.

Everyone headed over to the table, scraping out the chairs and settling in. There was already a call for food and more alcohol and as the first shot was placed in front of him, Sam knew it was going to be a long night.

“Like Brad said, we only turn 21 once,” Ives croaked in his ear playfully. He grinned, nodding in unison and tossed it back, relishing the burn in his throat. After that, the party was on full swing, even strangers giving him shots and beer and patting him on the back with ‘happy birthday’ on their lips.

Hours passed, conversation lasting well into the night. And with his limbs loose and heavy, Ives now settled on his lap, the alcohol affecting her as well, and his arm wrapped around Jess, Sam thought this was one of the best birthdays he’d had in a long time.

Still, the night was winding down and he gathered Ives on his shoulder then headed to the bar, wanting to settle up his tab.

The bar was still surprisingly busy, a good sized crowd all lined up for last calls, and Sam strived to get the bartender’s attention, dreaming already of his bed, Jess in his arms, and a decent night’s sleep.

Suddenly, Ives squawked, wings flapping with shock and surprise echoing through their bond. Sam turned, trying to see whatever it was over the sea of bodies in front of the bar, and just barely caught the front door closing with a thud.

“What? What was it?” he asked under the noise, turning casually back to the bar.

Ives shook her head. “I thought, I thought I saw . . .”

A flash of Dean and Drew whispered through his mind, all quicksilver grins and amber eyes and calls of _‘Sammy!’_ from the distance.

Sam winced at the illusion, ordering one last round at the bar and feeling far older than his 21 years.

“They wouldn’t be here,” he finally stated under his breath, disappointment and resentment warring in his chest. A year. One whole year since he’d last talked to his brother. The silence, the not-knowing if they were okay or just _alive_ , it _fucking_ hurt.

Ives’ feathers drooped before she curled her body under Sam’s throat in comfort. “I know,” she croaked, doubt in her voice. “I must have been wrong.”

Whatever alcohol still in their system burned up at that, Sam taking the time to collect himself before heading back to his friends. The beer and shots showed up in short order, and he plastered on a smile – the Sam Winchester Ivy League American showing up in full swing. Only Ives’ downtrodden attitude and clingy nature betrayed his real emotions.

He ambled back to the table, catching sight of Brad and the others, to find them chatting away aimlessly. The chair creaked beneath his weight, beer cooling in his hand, and he threw one of his arms across the back of Jess’ chair, Ives smoothly making the transition from shoulder to perch.

The blonde’s eyes lit up at the sight of her boyfriend, a smile tugging from her features. “You missed another well-wisher, Birthday Boy.”

Sam snorted, taking another sip of his beer. “Well, that was nice of them.”  

“Yeah, they said to give you this,” Jess continued, dropping a small newspaper-wrapped packet into his large hand.

Sam glanced at it curiously, something familiar tugging at his memory as he looked at crudely-shaped gift, one hauntingly similar to birthdays past. His fingers itched to open it right then and there, Ives on his shoulder almost quivering with anxiety.

“You should have seen this guy’s daemon, Sam,” Luiz started, voice far away from Sam’s thoughts, interrupting a feeling of dread and fear and regret pooling in their stomachs. “Biggest damn dog I’d ever seen. Almost like a Shepherd but the color was all off. Gorgeous, though.”

“Gave me the chills,” Jess’ friend Gemma half-whispered, drawing her squirrel daemon closer to her chest.

“What kind of dog?”  Ives’ voice barked through the chatter, beak snapping with urgency and the table immediately quiets, everyone staring wide-eyed, as if noticing Sam and his daemon for the first time, the tension in their forms.

Jess reached a questioning hand onto Sam’s shoulder, but he shrugged her off, eyes flickering with intensity as he stared down Luiz. On his shoulder, Ives flapped her wings, anxious and irritated, seemingly larger, ready to take flight.

“She asked what kind of dog,” Sam insisted, hand now white-knuckled and gripping the impromptu birthday gift.

Brad laughed cautiously. “Dude, what’s it matter? It’s not like you knew the guy, right?”

“It was just a-a mutt, I think, Sam,” Karen piped up, staring at Sam with nervous eyes, “big with black-gold fur but wore some sort of crudely-made collar . . .”

And that was all she got out before Ives launched into the air with a shriek, whirling towards the door.

Sam had already jumped to his feet, ignored the calls behind him, focusing on his daemon ahead and shoving past the remaining stragglers, his thoughts on one thing only.

_Dean was here. Dean and Drew were here. They made it. They were here. They have to still be here._

The cold air sobered him up slightly while Ives flew up and into the wind.

“Dean, Drew!” Sam heard Ives call from above, Sam’s own throat too tight with emotions to even begin to shout. She stretched their bond, as far as they could allow without pain, almost two buildings over.

He ignored the stares, straining his ears instead for a homesick rumble of an engine, the familiar greeting of ‘ _Heya, Sammy_ , _Ives’,_ the warm growl of _‘Ya miss us, featherbrains?_ ’

Silence answered him instead, haunting and unfamiliar, an empty road leading East with nothing but the blinking sign of a bar, the distant stoplights turning green.

_Dean and Drew always came when they called._

Loss echoed through Sam, through Ives, and a pain ricocheted through their bond that had nothing to do with the distance. He called his daemon back down with a distracted thought, eyes still searching and feeling wrecked and disappointed and lost.

“Sam.” Jess’ tentative hand touched his shoulder, bringing both Sam and Ives back down to Earth. He blinked, and looked into her worry-filled eyes, found a grin, pulled one up from somewhere, and gave it to her, taking her hand to his.

Celeste rubbed against his legs, whining softly, and he smiled down at the daemon, as compassionate and loving as his human.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, just as Ives landed on his shoulder, feathers ruffled and wings drooping. “Thought I saw someone.”

Jess watched him and Ives intently, head tilted to one side. He tensed, waiting for an interrogation but she just nodded slowly, started to pull him back inside.

“You’ll tell me one day, right?” she asked, next to him before they re-entered the bar, and he loved her fiercely then, then and forever, with Ives huddled on his shoulder and Celeste intertwined beneath their legs.

“Yes,” Sam breathed, relief and an odd disappointment warring in his stomach as he kissed her hard, warming up the well of loss in his heart. One day, he’d tell her about his big brother, the jerk with a heart of gold and the jokes of an eight-year-old, who’d made him Mac and Cheese, and read him bedtime stories, and beat up bullies who even looked his way and still kept watch in the dark so normal people could sleep safe at night. He’d tell her about Drew, his daemon, a fun-loving mutt bigger than any other and the only one that could match a soul as big as Dean’s, just as scarred, loyal to a fault and just as reckless.

Later, when they got home, after Jess had gone to sleep, Celeste curled up at her feet, Sam and Ives crept to the living room, the package clutched in Sam’s hand. He stared at it, long and hard, drawing warmth from Ives’ large form sitting on his lap before finally untangling the twine and unwrapping the clipping.

“Oh,” Ives breathed, and Sam’s voice echoed her, as he glanced at the gift in the light.

It was a handcrafted leather band and matching bracelet, one for Ives and Sam respectively. Crude and slight worn, but in the light, they could make out various symbols and letters, etched lovingly into the brown hide surrounding their names.

Ives poked at the symbols on her new band curiously with her beak, beady eyes narrowed. “That’s Veve, from the practice of Voodoo. It’s for protection, I think.” She sneezed, suddenly. “They’ve got a lot of powder on’em, and a bit of blood. I think they even got these blessed.”  

Sam stroked the matching symbol on his bracelet, unable to speak, throat welling up at the thought of Dean sitting there in some rusted motel, Drew at his feet making inane comments while he painstakingly carved out each and every one of these.

Ives nipped his finger, hard enough to draw blood. He yelped, glancing at her.

“We’re calling them tomorrow.” Her voice brooked no argument, black eyes fierce and ready. “This stupidity has gone far enough.”

He swallowed, nodding, unable to even disagree, not when suddenly he was missing his brother like a lost limb, knowing Ives missed Drew just as much. He almost wanted to call them then and there, to beg them to come back, a need so encompassing his hand shook with it.

But instead, Sam slid the bracelet made with love and care onto his wrist before tying Ives band onto her leg. It felt warm, like Dean’s hand felt when he grabbed Sam’s wrist to go somewhere or drag him out of harm’s way.

“We’ll call them tomorrow,” Sam confirmed, stroking Ives’ feathers, both of them needing the connection.

The next day, they got Dean’s voicemail. And the next. And the next week, worryingly. Briefly, Sam and Ives thought of calling Bobby, seeing if he had heard from the older two. Not Dad and Ellie, of course, their words of _Stay gone_ echoing in their heads.

Thankfully, while they were in Econ 200 on the following Monday, Dean left a drunk message, with Drew howling in the background.

“ _Sam, heya, Sammy- Ives-SamandIves. Hope all’s well, little brother and birdie. We’re good here so don’t worry, ‘kay? Just keep doing what you’re doing, being the badass lawyer wannabe – dammit Drew, don’t eat that! – Anyway, got to go, and have some fun with those college chicks. One word: Threesomes. I mean it, dude.”_

Sam snorted, while Ives huffed a bit with laughter. “Well, at least, they haven’t changed much,” Ives croaked, beak snapping in delight.

Sam glanced at his bracelet, feeling warm and amused all over. “Yeah, should’ve known.” He snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the bed and moving all thoughts of his brother and Drew out of his mind to focus on finals. They were obviously fine, and Sam had work to do.

Little did they know, but the next time Sam and Ives would even hear of Dean or Drew, it’d be over a year later in their apartment, Sam’s ass on the ground and Dean hovering over him with a wolfish grin, Drew’s warm bark in the background.

_“Whoa, easy, tiger.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Ives, or Yves, nicknamed Ivie, the Patron Saint of Lawyers, Brittany, and Lost Children. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ivo_of_Kermartin.
> 
>  
> 
> [2] Julian as in Saint Julian. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_and_Basilissa.
> 
>  
> 
> [3] Eligius, nicknamed ‘Ellie’, stands for the Patron Saint of Mechanics. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_patron_saints_by_occupation_and_activity#
> 
> [4] Drausinus, nicknamed ‘Drew’, stands for Patron Saint of Champions. http://catholicsaints.info/saint-drausinus-of-soissons/


End file.
